Do I Look Okay?
by former-burning-example
Summary: If there were ever a perfect time to act, this was the closest Jane would ever be. Contrary to popular belief, this was the kind of thing that took guts. AU. One-shot. Rizzles. Complete.


A/N: Inspired by a couple scenes in _The Abstinence Teacher_ by Tom Perrotta. I'll admit this is a bit weird, but I like it all the same. And don't worry. It's Rizzles. Even if that seems a little far off in the middle.

...

.

From about a block away, Jane started to wonder if what she was doing was really necessary. She glanced at the purple sweatshirt emblazoned with the Comets' own logo― the one she'd drawn up for the team with the help of some of the girls one afternoon after practice. It wasn't very original, just a soccer ball with a trail of fire and dust– a 'comet'– but the girls went crazy about them anyway.

It was a simple act of carelessness that Ruby Isles left hers behind after practice today. Normally, Jane would have done what any responsible coach would do: toss it in her car and return it the following practice. Simple. Easy. After all, she was a soccer coach, not the UPS man. It would have been easy to hide behind the shield of a good deed. _'Hey, I was in the neighborhood, and I just thought your daughter would need this.'_ Except, Jane didn't care one way or another whether her leading scorer got her sweatshirt back within the next few minutes or after the weekend.

She turned up the radio, cringing a little at the static that always seemed to come with small towns and their crappy FM rock stations. Her own daughter, Stella, enjoyed nothing more than giving her mother a hard time about the music on those short trips from her father's house to the soccer field. _'Dad's got XM in all our cars.'_ And Jane would always respond with something along the lines of– _well, good for Dad._

But now her daughter was off with her ex-husband and his new wife, Paula– a preschool teacher from South Carolina of all places– and Jane was all alone with no one but the voice inside her head to dissuade her. And so far, that little voice seemed to be neglecting its only job of the night.

She came to a stop sign and drummed her thumbs on the steering wheel. Ruby's house was just a half-block away. Or more specifically, Ruby's _mom_ was only a half-block away. There was really no use in denying it. All this fuss, the pointless errand for what? At most, thirty seconds of her (possibly) undivided attention? Thirty seconds of small talk about the team. Or _worse._ The goddamn _weather._

Jane wondered while idling at the lip of the intersection when she became like this. The kind of person to go forty minutes out of her way on a Friday night under the pretense of returning a sweatshirt. Though there wasn't all too much to ponder. The answer was simple.

Maura Isles.

Maybe it was the way she cheered– her heart in the right place, but her words clearly revealing she knew very little about the game. _'Great score, sweetie! Oh! Be careful! No, sweetie, don't kick her legs like that! It's her turn, Ruby! Oh, help her up! Great job!"_

Or maybe it was the way she'd so happily presented miniature salads and kale and banana smoothies last week when it was her turn to bring the snacks. And how she didn't seem to notice when all the girls just made faces and went out to practice goals for the rest of half-time rather than try her food.

Or how it was no secret she was a little more than just well-off, but rather than flaunting it, she showed up to the games on Saturday mornings in simple jeans and a maroon BCU sweatshirt and drove a car you'd expect any suburban mother to drive.

It was the little things that turned Jane's vague sense of admiration into something heavier and harder to ignore. Something that pushed Jane into doing things like this. Making up excuses to talk to her. Smiling at her from the sidelines. Carrying Ruby's soccer duffel to their car just to catch a few stray seconds of conversation with this woman. Anything to hear the cool, cerebral way she'd dive into a tangent about the history and progression of the functionality of shin guards or how she could just list out statistics like a memory verse. And even more to see the way her entire face would light up when the subject changed to her daughter. There wasn't anything quite like watching her passion for knowledge swallowed in the love and adoration for her child.

Despite everything Jane noticed in her, Maura wasn't much of a hit with the other parents. It wasn't so much from their end as it was her seemingly accidental aloofness. While the gaggle of mothers talked about their weekend plans or their fiery distaste for a set of parents on the opposing team, Maura tended to drift away. Instead finding unwavering interest in the game unfolding in front of her. Some of the dads liked to joke she looked about five seconds away from taking notes.

Jane took another look at the carelessly folded sweatshirt in the passenger seat, and by some miracle, something in the deep purple fabric made her decision for her.

.

Fifteen minutes later, however, she found herself back at square one. Hands tight around the steering wheel, eyes straight ahead... truck parked at the curb right in front of the Isles' home. And it wasn't as if she could convince herself no one was there. The entire lower level was ablaze, no doubt with the most energy-efficient light bulbs money could buy, but ablaze all the same.

Somewhere between the stop sign and Maura's house, she'd silenced the radio, instead opting for the Grateful Dead CD the previous owner had left inside the glove compartment. It was a little before her time, but she liked the twisted up face Stella made when she put in on and pretended to know all the words. Because of this, she made a point to take a lap or two around the park while blasting it as loudly as the tinny sound system could manage and sing along until Stella somehow wrestled the CD out of the player.

Now this was _definitely_ something that could wait until Monday. It was clear to her now. So _painfully_ clear that this wasn't normal or acceptable or _whatever._ Bottom line: nobody was this nice. She should just go home. And she was about to– maybe at least think about going in that general direction– when Maura stepped out of her house and started down the path towards her, peering quizzically through the passenger window as she approached. Really, there was nothing she could think she was _supposed_ to do except unbuckle and get out as if she'd just pulled up moments ago, and certainly hadn't sat through five and a half repeats of 'Uncle John's Band' trying to talk herself into leaving for good.

"Jane," she said cautiously as if strange women in orange trucks pulled up in front of her house from time to time, and she was just making sure this was an acceptable one, "is that you?"

"Ruby forgot this," Jane explained, now literally hiding behind the sweatshirt as she circled her truck to meet Maura on the faded chalk-covered sidewalk.

With an appropriate amount of reluctance, Maura took the garment. "Thank you." It came out so simple, anyone else might have called it sharp, but Jane sensed she had more to say. "You didn't have to come all the way out here. You could have just given it to Ruby at practice on Monday."

"It's no trouble," Jane assured her. Not entirely a lie. It's not like she had any other plans for the night. "I just thought she might need it tonight."

Maura glanced at the unlit top floor of her home. "She's not even here. She spends weekends with her father in the city."

"Oh, I didn't realize―" Jane stopped herself short, opting to not lie anymore. She knew damn well Ruby spent weekends with her father. "Sorry to bother you."

"It's no bother." Again, she looked back at her house over her shoulder, "I'd invite you inside, but..."

Her voice faded away in the way it only does when a person isn't quite sure how to finish a sentence nicely.

"No, it's okay," Jane assured her. "I'd better get going anyway."

Maura laughed softly, and somewhere inside the light sound, Jane sensed nerves. But nothing surprised her more than the feeling of Maura's hand coming to rest on her forearm.

"I'm going on a date," she whispered. A secret not meant for her neighbors, Maura leaned in so close Jane could smell the faint trace of wine on her breath. "First one in longer than I care to admit."

"Wow." Jane tried to ignore a sharp pang of jealousy that made no sense. "Exciting." She tried to mean it. Truly, she did, but her heart wouldn't join the words as they left her tongue. "That's great, Maura."

"Can I ask you something, Jane?" She sounded flustered. Maybe embarrassed was a better word. "I sort of need an opinion."

Without waiting for a semblance of a response, she pushed Ruby's sweatshirt back into Jane's hands and took a couple of steps back toward her house until the dull motion-sensing light above the garage cast her in a soft yellow glow.

"Do I look okay?" she asked, turning in a slow circle. "This is the fourth outfit I've tried on, but they all felt wrong."

"You look fine."

 _Fin_ e? Jane screamed inside her head, _That's the best you could do? Fine?_

Maura tilted her head a little to the left, "Really?" Maybe it was the light, but her face looked younger than Jane remembered it, touchingly girlish even. "Just give me your honest opinion. I... I don't usually worry this much."

Jane didn't need to study her, but she did anyway to make her feel better. She was wearing a belted leather jacket over a tweedy skirt, black tights, and high shiny boots. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, absolutely illuminated by the faint garage light. She tucked a strand behind her ear, watching Jane closely.

Words flew through her head. Perfect words. Strong words. _Loaded_ words like 'stunning' and 'gorgeous.' But when she opened her mouth, something more characteristically Rizzoli fell out.

"My honest opinion," Jane said, "you've got nothing to worry about."

...

...

Maura couldn't decide if she should fall into a state of calm or frantics at the idea of going to dinner with Garrett Fairfield. It was not as if they were strangers. They'd dated for nearly three years from the end of high school into college, and because of one lonely two o'clock in the morning post on their alumni page inquiring how to contact a certain Fairfield, here she was. About to fly blindly into a date that was anything but.

She met him at the bar inside a mostly low-key Italian place, not really sure what to expect, but when the time came for small talk, she found it easy to settle into what they'd left behind all those years ago. What didn't surprise her at all was how good he looked. It was nothing like the feeling that clouded around her head and locked her teeth together at the 20-year reunion she'd attended earlier this year. The mental jaw-dropping as her eyes bobbed up and down between name tag and face.

Time had not done its usual number on him, and for some reason, she found that fitting. Really the only indication that time had passed at all was the slight greying in the hair above his ears and the crow's feet spidering out from the corners of his eyes. In fact, had this been a blind date, she might have been excited– _attracted_ , even. Had he been _anyone_ else.

"Jesus," he said, giving her the first once-over she'd been aware of in years. "You look great, M."

.  
Garrett barely touched the gnocchi but seemed almost as enthusiastic about the wine as Maura. Though he seemed significantly more interested in asking her questions about her life. Particularly the romantic side of it. She hadn't had nearly enough wine to delve into the subject of Ian, her ex-husband. The marriage was so fragile to begin with, fueled by desire mostly. But when that petered out, they were both ready to end it, and they would have too if not for the two little pink lines on a pregnancy test a few weeks later.

So they stayed together for Ruby, or they _tried_ at least. For two years they tried before finally giving in to those shiny divorce papers.

"What about you?" she asked. If there was one thing Garrett loved more than fast cars and Swiss wristwatches, it was talking about himself.

"I've had a few girlfriends, but nothing serious. I travel too much for that kind of thing." He glanced up and decided to elaborate further at the sight of the confusion splashing across her features. "Sometimes I'm gone for months at a time with the business. I just don't think it'd be fair, you know? I meet a lot of women on the job, and I'd hate to have to hide in my room all night, feeling guilty for flirting with the pretty sales rep at the bar."

"Flirting? Or is that a euphemism?" An honest question. Maura in all her sharpness was helpless to the common innuendo.

"I just go with the flow, M," he said with that smugness that used to drive her up the wall. In the very best way– that is. "If something's meant to happen, it will. But if not, then that's cool too."

"What about when you get back from these business trips? Do you get lonely then?"

He seemed a bit surprised by this question. As if he'd prepared an answer to every question she could have possibly asked except for that very one. "Not really. I just go to the gym and forget about everything." A once talented swimmer in college, Maura took this as his way of telling her he literally _swam_ away from his problems.

"I suppose I have days like that." She glanced down at the table, trying her best to keep her tone light, "It's almost as if everyone around me is in love, and I'm just glancing through the window wondering why that's not me."

He chuckled, not at all bothered by the turn in conversation. "Don't let love into it, M. It just confuses the issue."

Maura wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but she nodded anyway, smiling at him even as his attention was on the waiter at a nearby table. "More wine? Or should I get the check?"

"I'm ready when you are."

His leg brushed against hers under the table, "Check please."

..

Somehow she ended up in Garrett's hotel room, kissing him in a way that felt like an experiment, and undoing the buttons of his shirt, but pushing his hands away when he tried the zipper on her jacket.

An experiment.

His hands wandered to her zipper again, but she caught them and held them in hers, "Not yet. I'm feeling... shy." While 'shy' was not at all the word she was looking for, he understood and took a few steps back.

"That's okay. I can go first," he said, sitting at the edge of the bed, bending to take off his shoes and socks. Maura could only stare at her data unfolding in front of her, going without any type of recording. He started to take off his pants, and that's when her brain finally caught up to her. In theory, this was why she'd come here tonight, but... Was she really about to do this?

"Something wrong?" he asked, concerned. "Am I freaking you out?"

"No... I just..." she shrugged. "It's been a while."

"We don't have to."

Their evening had been interesting. It felt good to catch up with Garrett after so many years, to learn about his business and what became of his family over the years. It was nice. But now standing there, she was all but literally shaking in her boots. She felt as if she'd decided to start with the high dive, skipping everything meant to ease into it.

And above everything else, it was certainly an inconvenient time for her to be thinking about Jane Rizzoli and the way she'd looked at her earlier that evening after Maura had twirled around for her on the sidewalk in front of her house. The twilight had been fading, and there was some distance between them, but her face seemed oddly vivid as the brunette studied her, full of pain and longing.

 _Do I look okay?_

Her question seemed so harmless, so _innocent_ at the time– part curiosity, part stray flirtation– but it had been a physical shock to receive the answer, to register the full wordless force of her approval, a jolt to her system she still hadn't managed to shake. She would've given a lot to still be standing with Jane on that dark, quiet street, instead of sitting at the edge of this hotel bed with her very nearly naked date, thinking about how unhappy Garrett was going to be in a second or two when she told him that she'd made a mistake and needed to go home.

...

...

...

After her date with Garrett, Maura felt a stronger sense of clarity. Not only had she learned that maybe rekindling old flames only happened properly on the silver screen, but also that Jane Rizzoli had a nice smile. The kind Maura only noticed in people when they were completely unaware the world was watching.

Blissfully unaware of anything but the soccer game tumbling out in front of her, Jane seemed to be in her element. It struck Maura as odd. Some people were comfortable in courtrooms in front of a jury, tucked away in some office on the twenty-fifth floor, or even hunched over bodies in a morgue. Jane looked right at home, jogging back and forth along the sideline, making sure a bunch of ten-year-olds did everything they could to subdue the Revere Fireflies.

From her spot in the stands, she had to squint to see Jane clearly, and in doing so she nearly missed her own daughter break away from the pack with the ball. Like her father, Ruby lived for sports, and while Maura didn't quite understand her motivations, she remained supportive. It didn't take long, however, for her to see just how happy soccer made her daughter. And moments like these– when Ruby got the ball out in front of the tangled mess of fifth graders– were what made it all worth it. To see her daughter having fun with her friends, all doing what they do best.

"That's it Ruby!" Jane cheered from the other side of the field, "It's all you, kid!"

Pride bloomed in Maura's chest as Ruby kicked the ball hard. It rocketed through the air, and despite the Firefly goalie's best attempt, it slipped right through her outstretched arms and kept going until the net stretched out to stop it.

"Nice shot, kid!" Jane yelled, thrusting her fist in the air. And for one fleeting moment, Jane's eyes found hers in the crowd. Maura wasn't completely sure, but perhaps they'd shared a smile. A knowing look. A very deliberate compliment flung across the field. An impossible energy exchanging back in forth just as it had been since last Friday.

Something Maura wasn't going to let go without investigation.

...

...

The game wrapped up with an impressive score of twelve to ten, the Comets taking home another well-deserved victory. Jane busied herself with making sure every player on her team had a blue Gatorade and a ride home. Stella had decided to go with about half of the team in the Korsaks' minivan for celebratory pizza, leaving Jane to clear the area of water bottles and granola bar wrappers by herself.

She didn't mind much. After all, they'd just added another win to their (knock on wood) undefeated record. She had high hopes for the Comets this year.

She bent to pick up a crushed water bottle, her hand instead met with a ball that had been rolling towards her. Puzzled, she looked up, curiosity giving way to something a little more familiar.

"Hey, you."

"Hey yourself," Maura said, smiling. "I think I'm getting the hang of this."

Jane glanced at the ball beside her, "Think you can beat me?"

"Oh, gosh no."

"No?"

"Hm... Someday," Maura said, "but not today."

If there were ever a perfect time to act, this was the closest Jane would ever be. Contrary to popular belief, this was the kind of thing that took guts.

And as luck would have it, Jane Rizzoli had those in the spades.

"Bummer. Well, can I take you for a cup of coffee instead?"

"I'd like that," Maura said, removing one hand from her sweatshirt pocket just long enough to link it through Jane's. This Saturday was quickly going down in history as one of her favorites, made even better when the blond stopped in her tracks, eyes wide but smile deliberate. It said: _oh, this woman. she knows exactly what she's doing._

Hazel eyes held hers and the words that followed fueled the sort of goofy smile that never seemed to disappear for too long, especially when there's a beautiful woman or two involved.

"Do I look okay?"


End file.
